


Angle of Incidence

by Philosopher_King



Series: The Three-Body Problem [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Men Crying, Minor Mai/Zuko, Minor Sokka/Suki, Multi, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Past Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Philosophy, Post-Canon, Smoke and Shadow Comics (Avatar), The Promise Comics (Avatar), The Search Comics (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Angst, Zuko still self-medicates, and so is Zuko, this fic is a hot mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosopher_King/pseuds/Philosopher_King
Summary: "In the Fire Nation, unlike in the other nations, the solstices are not festival days. Most of the archipelago is arrayed along the equator, so the length of the days does not change appreciably over the course of the year. What distinguishes the solstices is that the tilt of the planet makes the angle of the sun’s rays more indirect than at any other time of year, while it is strongest and most direct during what the hemispheres call the equinoxes. ..."The winter solstice (as it is called mostly by analogy) comes during the rainy season, so sunlight is not only slanted at an indirect angle, but dimmed and diffused by clouds. So of course, because that’s just what his life is like, the winter solstice is Zuko’s birthday."Shortly after Aang, Zuko, and Katara have become lovers, the Gaang visits the Fire Nation for Zuko's twentieth birthday.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Aang/Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Aang/Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The Three-Body Problem [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652515
Comments: 23
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Would make the most sense if read after the previous fics in the series. Also makes reference to some events in the comics trilogies _The Promise_ , _The Search_ , and _Smoke and Shadow_ (available for free on readcomiconline.to), but you don't need to have read those. Here's everything you need to know if you haven't:
> 
> 1\. In _The Promise_ , Mai broke up with Zuko because he was keeping important secrets from her -- specifically, he hadn't told her that he had been going to see Ozai in prison.  
> 2\. In _The Search_ , Zuko, Azula, & friends go to find the fire kids' mother, Ursa, who had gone back to her hometown Hira'a, got a new face and name and her memories of her life as Fire Lady erased by the Mother of Faces (mother of Koh the Face-Stealer), and was married to her childhood sweetheart (formerly Ikem, now going by Noren) and had a young daughter named Kiyi. When Zuko and Azula found her, she got her face and memories restored and came back to the Capital with Zuko and her new family (Azula scarpered).  
> 3\. In _Smoke and Shadow_ , Mai's father Ukano was working with Azula to destabilize Zuko's reign (details are complicated and irrelevant), but Mai and her new boyfriend Kei Lo helped Zuko and Aang deal with the crisis. At the end of the series, we see Kei Lo break up with Mai, presumably because having been brought into close contact with Zuko again revealed that they still have feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the benefit of one of my younger readers, I've put in a horizontal line marking a section break right before the fic goes into the NSFW-ish things that earn it a 'Mature' rating. Those who are not bothered by such things can ignore it.

In the Fire Nation, unlike in the other nations, the solstices are not festival days. Most of the archipelago is arrayed along the equator, so the length of the days does not change appreciably over the course of the year. What distinguishes the solstices is that the tilt of the planet makes the angle of the sun’s rays more indirect than at any other time of year, while it is strongest and most direct during what the hemispheres call the equinoxes.

So while people in the rest of the world celebrate the longest day of the year, or gather in fellowship against the longest night and hopefully await the return of spring—or, in the Water Tribes, venerate the Moon Spirit on the two days of night—the solstices are solemn days in the Fire Nation. Most do nothing in particular to mark them; firebenders find themselves weaker and more easily fatigued (and consequently irritable). The most religious, including the Fire Sages, observe them as days of fasting and contemplation, when they consider what they may have done or experienced that has distanced them from the love and favor of Agni, and how they might bring themselves closer in the months to come.

The winter solstice (as it is called mostly by analogy) comes during the rainy season, so sunlight is not only slanted at an indirect angle, but dimmed and diffused by clouds. So of course, because that’s just what his life is like, the winter solstice is Zuko’s birthday.

The official celebrations (when they were held at all—only for especially significant birthdays) were never held on Zuko’s actual birthday, on the solstice itself, but on the day after. It was considered inauspicious for a Prince of the Fire Nation to be born on the day when Agni was farthest from His people, the day when firebending was most difficult and frustrating; so Ozai pretended that his son was born on the day when Agni began His return—an omen of hope and promise, not of weakness and failure. But Ursa (while she was there) always gave Zuko his presents on the day before the public celebration, on his true birthday.

As Fire Lord, Zuko did not change his father’s practice. Publicly available records showed that he was born the day after the solstice (though the chronicles kept by the Fire Sages told the truth), and Zuko didn’t want to go through all the trouble of having them changed—or provide more ammunition to the nationalistic factions who already thought Zuko was bringing down ruin upon the Fire Nation.

Zuko’s twentieth birthday was his first since Ursa had regained her memories and returned to the Capital. True to her old custom, she gave him her present—a sumptuously illustrated scroll of _Love Amongst the Dragons_ —on the solstice itself, and prompted her new family to do the same.

With great solemnity, Kiyi presented him with a painting of him she had made herself. With all the naïveté of childhood, she had painted his scar huge and dark and his left eye almost comically slitted and angled like the theatrical mask of an angry spirit. Upon seeing it, Ursa covered her mouth in horror and she started to apologize to her son on her daughter’s behalf. But before she could get out more than a few words, Zuko thanked Kiyi with a solemnity to match her own and pronounced it superior to his official state portrait.

He almost meant it, too. The portrait had the opposite vice from Kiyi’s drawing: it did not omit the scar—it could not, while still being recognizable as the intended subject, and Zuko had given the artist explicit instructions to portray it accurately—but it had obviously been deemphasized, the marked skin made smoother and paler than it was, the eyes and ears more symmetrical. The first version had even shown the shadow of an eyebrow over Zuko’s left eye, in an effort to make his expression appear as regally neutral as those of painted Fire Lords before him.

After seeing that version, Zuko had ordered the artist—possibly with more volume and vehemence than necessary—to fix it… at least as much as he could without repainting the whole thing, which Zuko was not so cruel or wasteful as to force him to do. So he had painted over the eyebrow and darkened the pinks and reds on the cheek and around the eye, but the eye itself remained too wide and straight, the folds of the ear too well-defined. In a decade or two, Zuko thought, he would commission a new one—and make it _unmistakably clear_ that he did not want the artist to ‘flatter’ him at the expense of reality.

Noren’s (Ikem’s) gift was the Dark Water Spirit mask from the Hira’a Theater Troupe’s old costume collection—the very same one that had been used in the production in which Ursa should have played the Dragon Empress. The troupe had since commissioned newer, more elaborate masks, but Noren had kept all of the old ones. This one was simpler and more roughly carved and painted than any of the ones Zuko had used for his exploits as the Blue Spirit—it was decades old, after all, and had belonged to a modest provincial troupe—but Zuko thought it was the most beautiful theater mask he had ever seen. He felt the prickle of oncoming tears in his nose and eyes and faked a cough while he brought them under control, though he knew he was fooling no one (except maybe Kiyi).

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, and—feeling it wasn’t enough—bowed in gratitude, lower than was probably appropriate.

“You know, you _are_ allowed to give your stepfather a hug,” Ursa said, suppressing a smile but unable to keep it from her voice. So Zuko did.

Ursa sent her husband to put Kiyi to bed and stayed with her son, sipping a strong rich dessert sake. “You seem happy,” she said.

“I am. I’m so happy you’re here—you and Noren and Kiyi.”

“I didn’t just mean about that. I keep seeing you smiling to yourself, as if you have a secret.”

Zuko’s face felt warm, and he knew he was blushing. Damn him and his complete inability to conceal emotions! Azula had the world’s best pai sho face—why couldn’t he have gotten _any_ of that talent?

“Aha! So, is there a young lady you haven’t introduced me to?”

“No!” And that wasn’t a lie; Ursa had met the young lady in question, as well as the young man. “I just… finally feel like things are starting to go right. We’ve gone a whole two months without a crisis!” He gave her a lopsided smile.

“Mm-hmm.” Her own slightly crooked smile told him she wasn’t buying it.

The following day was a public holiday. Zuko made an appearance, as was expected of him, before the (supposedly) adoring crowd that had braved the (fortunately not too torrential) rain to gather in the courtyard of the palace. He thanked them for their support and all their hard work on behalf of the nation, and took the opportunity, once more, to speak the praises of peace and harmony among the nations. He urged his people to welcome visitors from the other nations and to travel themselves, if they could, to learn about the rich cultures of other peoples, and to see for themselves that their similarities were ultimately greater than their differences. Imagine what riches we will all enjoy, he said, when the tools of war are re-forged into tools of creation, of agriculture, art, and invention.

“Excellent speech, Your Fieriness!” said an enthusiastic voice from behind him over the applause (genuine, he hoped) that followed. Zuko couldn’t turn around yet—he had to keep waving graciously for another minute or so—but he couldn’t suppress a grin while he did so. “Or should I say, ‘Flamey-o, Hotman’? ‘Hotlord’?” Aang continued.

“No, you definitely should not,” Zuko said, still smiling, trying to move his lips as little as possible. “You want to come out here and greet your public, Avatar?”

“Nah, better not. It’s your day, birthday boy; you deserve all the love.”

“Or all the hate and resentment?”

Zuko decided he could stop waving now and retreat back into the palace. He turned around and there was Aang, grinning broadly, and Katara beside him. And behind them was…

“Uncle!” Zuko ran past his friends (they could wait) to throw his arms around Iroh. “I didn’t know if you’d be able to make it.”

“It _is_ a long, long way to—or from—Ba Sing Se,” Iroh acknowledged, “but it seems considerably shorter when you have friends with a flying bison.”

Zuko laughed with sheer joy and turned back to hug Aang and then Katara. “Thank you so much for coming—and for bringing Uncle.”

“It’s the least we could do,” said Katara. She kissed him on the cheek, and he felt himself blushing at how much more that kiss might mean now.

“And your people don’t hate and resent you, Zuko,” said Aang.

“No? How do you know?”

“Well, I don’t _know_ , exactly… but they sounded sincere out there. And I bet they’re pretty happy not to be shipped off to die in foreign lands anymore.”

“It’s only the nobles who hate you,” Iroh said helpfully. “They’re the ones who can use war to promote or enrich themselves.”

“Ah, well. I can figure out how to deal with them… or at least my advisors can.”

“And if it comes down to it, there aren’t that many of them,” Katara pointed out. “We can help you take them out.”

Zuko guffawed. “I’d expect that kind of bloodthirstiness from Toph or Sokka…”

“Oh, come on. Have you met me?”

He reflected on the time he’d known Katara—especially from their first encounter until the end of the war—and conceded that it was perfectly in character.

“Hi, Suki!” said Aang brightly: Zuko’s Kyoshi Warrior escort had followed him inside. “Hi, Ty Lee!”

They both hugged him and Katara—and Ty Lee hugged Iroh, too, for good measure, which he received with good humor.

“Sokka’s coming, too,” Katara told Suki.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “He did reply to the invitation… and also sent a private note to me.” Her faint mischievous smile placed a certain stress on the word _private_ that her voice had not.

Zuko ushered them all to a cozy sitting room with large windows letting in the silver-tinted light of the rainy afternoon. He made a pot of his favorite green tea with toasted rice. Iroh sniffed at it hesitantly and took a cautious sip before making a _not bad_ face and drinking more deeply. Zuko thought it was one of the highest compliments he had ever received.

They chatted and exchanged amusing anecdotes from their lives since they had last seen each other. After an hour or so, a guard knocked to announce two new arrivals: Sokka and Toph, who had arrived on a ship from Cranefish Town and just come up from the harbor. They greeted Zuko with a hug and a punch to the arm, respectively, and wishes of “Happy birthday, Sparky!” and “Many happy returns, Jerk Lord!” before turning to hug or arm-punch the rest of the company.

Now that everyone had arrived, gifts were produced. With a shy smile, Aang pulled his gift out of his bag: a slender bracelet, braided from some strong but flexible dried plant fiber, with four carved wooden disks strung onto it and secured by knots. When Zuko looked closely, he saw that it was a miniature version of Aang’s own necklace of prayer beads: each disk was carved with the symbol of one of the four elements, but instead of a fringe of the color associated with each element and its nation hanging from the disks, the colors had been painted with a slender brush into the carved lines of the symbols.

“It’s— but I’m not the Avatar!” Zuko protested, only halfway joking. A dark voice in his head whispered, _But you know what your people call you: the Avatar’s puppet, the Avatar’s pet._ He thought it sounded like his father.

“Maybe not, but you’ve done at least as much to restore balance as I have. And all the nations owe you their gratitude.”

“Thank you, Aang. Here, help me tie it on?” _And there he is, fastening his leash on you,_ hissed the voice. Zuko shook his head slightly as if he could silence it that way; he didn’t think anyone noticed.

Aang’s cheeks were pink as he knotted the bracelet at the underside of Zuko’s extended wrist. His fingers couldn’t avoid brushing the soft, smooth skin patterned with delicate veins, which Zuko exposed by shaking the loose sleeve of his robe up his arm. He was fairly certain he was the only one close enough to hear it, but Aang’s breathing had become slightly harsh, and Zuko’s own breaths deepened to match it, his heartbeat loud and a little too fast in his ears. Their eyes met when Aang had finished tying the bracelet with not-quite-steady hands, and Zuko gave him the tiniest smirk.

Aang sat back down beside Katara and she gave them both a knowing look before she brought out her own gift: a little book of hand-written pages, inexpertly bound with twine. Zuko opened it and saw recipes—mostly in Katara’s hand, a few in Aang’s, several in others that he didn’t recognize. They were organized by nation: first from the Southern Water Tribe, then the Northern, then the Air Nomads, then various parts of the Earth Kingdom.

“It’s sort of from both of us,” Katara said, mildly apologetic. “And I asked some of our friends to contribute—Malina gave me the Northern Water Tribe recipes, and I got the Earth Kingdom ones from Haru, Teo, Pipsqueak, Toph’s student Ho Tun…”

“I put in a few that are unique to Kyoshi Island,” Suki added. “It has some similarities to Fire Nation cuisine—especially the predominance of seafood—but it’s very much its own thing.”

“Thank you—this is wonderful. I’ll give it to the palace cooks… and maybe I’ll try some of them myself, if they’ll trust me not to set the whole kitchen on fire.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Iroh said dryly.

“Our turn!” Toph said loudly. “Sokka, you have it, right?”

Sokka gasped. “Oh no, I left it on the boat…”

“It’s a good thing I can tell you’re joking, because otherwise I might kill you,” Toph said casually.

Sokka pulled a small leather-wrapped parcel out of his bag and handed it to Zuko. It was solid but delicately made, he could tell just by feeling it. He laid open its wrapping and uncovered a torc of intertwined silver and gold. The centerpiece, which would lie on his chest when he wore it around his neck, consisted of the head of a dragon fashioned from gold and a wolf from silver, facing each other with their snouts touching. The detail was exquisite: their legs, tucked against their bodies as if they were lying down, were a little farther up each slender strand of metal, and the length of each, which extended all the way to the forelegs of the other figure, was textured—the golden dragon’s body with scales, the wolf’s long tail with the impression of fur.

“The design was my idea,” said Sokka, “but of course Toph made it.”

“With some assistance from my lily— my students. I had them check the visuals and adjust the shapes as needed.”

“Penga is actually a really good artist,” Sokka remarked.

“Good thing, too,” said Toph, “because from what I hear, _you_ can’t draw for shit.”

“That is very true,” Suki confirmed.

“Hey!”

“It’s magnificent,” said Zuko, and he meant it.

“I guess it symbolizes friendship between the Water Tribe and the Fire Nation,” Toph said unnecessarily. “I suggested putting in a badger-mole, but Sokka thought they weren’t _elegant_ enough…”

“I never said that!” he protested. “Badger-moles are perfectly elegant. I just thought it would clutter up the design.”

“I do think those are the best two animals for jewelry,” Aang put in. “I won’t deny it, sky bison are kind of goofy-looking.”

“Thank you, Aang,” said Sokka, folding his arms and looking vindicated.

“Thank you both so much,” said Zuko. The metal was flexible enough that he could part the dragon and wolf heads to fit the torc around his neck, then push them back together. He got up to give Sokka a hug, and even Toph submitted to one, with some grumbling.

“I’m afraid my gift is not quite as unique as these others,” said Iroh. “Since I don’t really make anything other than tea…”

“As long as it’s not more tea leaves.”

“No, it’s not,” said Iroh, rummaging in his satchel.

“Or a pai sho set. Or a tsungi horn…”

“Ah!” With a flourish, Iroh presented a hefty volume bound in green leather and stamped with elegant gilt lettering. _Three Romances of the Earth Kingdom_ , said the title on the cover.

Zuko drew in an eager breath and took it with the reverence he thought appropriate for something so beautiful. He opened it and saw a gorgeously patterned paper lining on the inside of the cover. After the title page was a watercolor of Ba Sing Se seen from a distant height, with squares of green and brown farmland inside the outer wall and just the suggestion of multicolored roofs, streets, and parks within its three concentric inner walls. The golden dunes of the desert lay at its western doorstep, the sparkling blue expanse of the ocean just beyond the eastern walls, a vast, forbidding range of steel-gray mountains marching away to the north like massed ranks of stony giants.

The table of contents informed him, with brief summaries, which romances were included: the _Romance of Oma and Shu_ , a retelling of the legend of the lovers from warring clans who learned earthbending from the badger-moles to meet secretly in labyrinthine mountain tunnels; the _Romance of the Lake_ , a surreal mythic tale of a careless wager between a water spirit and an earth spirit and its repercussions in the lives of mortals caught up in their game; and the _Romance of the Four Walls_ , a sprawling epic stretching across centuries, chronicling the building of the walls of Ba Sing Se through the story of a pair of forbidden lovers—a princess and a lowly thief—and their descendants, embroiled in war, siege, and espionage, and divided by the walls being erected between social classes. Flipping through the pages, Zuko saw that they were occasionally illustrated with stylized black ink drawings. Toward the end of each of the romances, there was another watercolor spread over two pages, apparently depicting the most famous scene.

“Since you’re such an admirer of Fire Nation dramas, I thought you might want to expand your tastes into another nation’s great literary tradition,” Iroh explained.

“This looks wonderful, Uncle,” said Zuko, a little breathlessly, running his fingers over a fantastical ink drawing of the water spirit in the _Romance of the Lake_. “I only wish I had more time to read them—I’m afraid this will just sit untouched on my bedside table while I waste my time in pointless meetings and fall asleep reading reports at my desk…”

“You have to make time for what you love,” said Iroh. “I know you make time for your family and friends…”

“Though sometimes he has to be pestered and prodded into it,” Suki teased him. Zuko guiltily shrank into himself, his shoulders creeping toward his ears.

“Make time to go to the theater,” Iroh continued. “And set aside some time every night—an hour, or even just half an hour—to read something that isn’t official reports and correspondence. You are the Fire Lord; the world will wait for you, if you don’t abuse the privilege. Your own life will not wait.”

“He’s right,” Aang chimed in. “Take time to stop and ride the elephant-koi.”

“Thank you, wise old sage Aang…”

“I am! Or I have been. And you might be surprised how often the sage and the kid want the same thing.”

Zuko paused to digest that and wondered if it was too late to have a childhood. Maybe when he was old, when his heir (and there was a troubling thought) was ready to rule, Zuko would step away from his duties and go ride elephant-koi or make fruit tarts or have snowball fights—with Aang and Katara, Agni willing.

“Thank you so much, Uncle,” said Zuko, and he got up to wrap the old dragon in a hug so tight that he groaned. “And thank you so much for coming. It means the world to me.”

“I would say ‘I would never miss my nephew’s twentieth birthday,’ except that I already have,” said Iroh.

Everyone else looked confused. “Wait, what do you mean?” Aang said.

Zuko sighed as he resumed his seat. He hadn’t planned to tell them the whole sob story about his birthdate, but now he apparently had no choice.

“My actual birthday was yesterday, on the solstice. But it’s considered bad luck for a prince—the _crown_ prince, no less—to be born on the solstice, especially the rainy season solstice, when the light of the sun is weakest. So my father always claimed I was born the day after, when the sun begins to return.”

They all digested this information in silence, until Toph said, “Every time I thought my opinion of your father couldn’t get lower, he finds a way to surprise me.” Zuko laughed, so everyone else allowed themselves to laugh too, half a second later.

Sokka cleared his throat. “Not to be crude or anything—”

“Always an auspicious beginning,” Katara muttered.

“—but if it’s such bad luck for an heir to be born on the solstice, then why were your parents engaging in, er, heir-producing activities nine months beforehand?”

Suki looked like she wanted to slap her palm over her face, except that it would ruin her makeup. She settled for hunching over with her elbows on her knees and slowly shaking her hanging head.

“They weren’t,” said Zuko. “I was born early.”

“Five weeks early,” said Iroh, his voice hard. “No wonder Ozai thought he lacked a ‘spark’ in his eyes; he was struggling just to survive.”

“‘Lucky to be born,’” Aang murmured.

Zuko’s gaze shot over to him. “What did you say?”

“I just— I just remembered you telling me something. ‘My father says Azula was born lucky. He says I was lucky to be born.’”

“… and whaddya know. Opinion just went lower,” said Toph.

“… but I can’t seem to place when you told me,” Aang continued, his brow creased in concentration. “It wasn’t when we went to see the Sun Warriors, was it?”

“No, I didn’t think I’d ever told you that,” Zuko said, frowning. He squinted into the silvery light from the window, searching his memory as if it were a horizon that might show an enemy or a storm. _An enemy and a storm…_ “Oh shit, I didn’t think you could hear me,” he said, his eye widening as he realized.

“What?”

“At the North Pole, in that cave. You were still in the Spirit World; I had taken your body from the Spirit Oasis…”

“Oh, wow. I didn’t think I could hear anything while I was in the Spirit World, either. But I guess I process things subconsciously?”

“Turns out it’s not always a good idea to villain-monologue to your supposedly unconscious captured enemies,” Sokka remarked.

Zuko put his hands over his face, which was feeling very hot, and rubbed at his eyes. His sixteen-year-old self was a complete moron. And Sokka was right: he only knew how to understand himself in the terms of the classic dramas he had always devoured, in scrolls or on the stage.

“Sokka, don’t be an asshole,” Katara snapped.

“But assholery is one of my greatest talents!” Sokka protested. “That, and coming up with awesome gift ideas for someone else to execute.”

“A lot like your battle plans,” said Toph. Aang snorted; Sokka inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“You know, Zuko,” Iroh said seriously, “the solstice was not always considered an inauspicious day in the Fire Nation.”

Zuko dared to look up from his hands. “Wait, really?”

“Why do you think the doors of Roku’s and the Sun Warriors’ temple only open when the sunstone is struck by the light at sunset on the solstice?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really think about it.”

“You know that the boundaries with the Spirit World are weakest at the solstice; that is just as true in the Fire Nation as it is anywhere else. But not only that. Did you know that we cannot bend in the Spirit World?”

“How would I know that?” Zuko said, a little irritable. “I’ve never been.”

“I have!” Aang said, unnecessarily. “I can confirm: no bending. It’s a little creepy.”

“Also, no bathrooms,” Sokka added.

“Not helpful, Sokka,” Katara hissed.

“Indeed,” he agreed, but not quite on the same point.

Iroh ignored the interruption. “Although bending is a gift of the spirits, we are most open to new wisdom from them when our bending is weakest. The Sun Warriors would allow budding firebenders to learn the Dancing Dragon only after sunset on the solstice—so that they would not be overwhelmed by the new power, yes, but also so that they would come before the Masters with humility, knowing themselves to be dependent on the generosity of the spirits, and not wholly the masters of their own power.”

“So… being born on the solstice means I’m more open to the wisdom of the spirits?”

“It means you are especially open to new encounters, and new wisdom. Things do not come easily to you, but you are always willing to learn. You were also born lucky, Zuko, but for a different reason, and in a different way. You have learned more about life than most, and you are better able to savor life’s fruits than most, because you have so often stood to lose it.”

A pensive silence met his words. Zuko could not have spoken in reply if he had wanted to; even if he managed to force anything through the block in his throat, tears would have spilled out with it, and that would be horribly embarrassing in front of all his friends.

“So start savoring those fruits, Sparky!” said Toph, after she judged the silence had gone on long enough.

Zuko looked up at Aang and Katara, who met his gaze with matching intensity. Aang’s cheeks colored, again. Zuko was glad Toph couldn’t see any of that… though perhaps she could detect the changes in their breathing and heartbeats. Blessedly, she didn’t comment.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Ty Lee fretted to Zuko, breaking the spell.

He gave her a tiny laugh. “Don’t worry! The sense of security you give me every day is gift enough.”

“Yeah, but you pay me for that…”

“Ah, but peace of mind is priceless.”

“Maybe that means you need to give us a raise,” Suki said dryly.

Zuko laughed again. “We can talk about that after the reception tonight. You might get a bonus if you can scare away the most obnoxious hangers-on…”

The friends were served a light early supper before the evening’s reception; there would be canapés, but that might not be enough to make dinner out of, and Zuko in particular would probably be too much in demand to eat, while Suki and Ty Lee would be on duty.

Zuko was expected to make a grand entrance about fifteen minutes after the festivities started at sunset. His friends preceded him, joining the other distinguished guests through the normal entrance, while Zuko prepared to enter through a private door onto a dais from which he was expected to give another speech. He was becoming accustomed to speech-giving, Agni help him, though he still hated it. He threw back a shot of brandy before he emerged onto the dais to the polite applause of the highest Fire Nation nobility—and an inappropriately loud whistle from Toph. He managed not to grin, though he couldn’t suppress a close-lipped smile.

He thanked the gathered nobles for their support and their partnership in leading the Fire Nation into a new day, when they would offer their knowledge and prosperity to the world freely, with an open hand, to be freely accepted, rather than forcing it on them at the point of a spear. Agni bestowed His blessings freely upon all from His overflowing power and generosity, asking nothing in return; should His people not do the same? That was the true meaning of strength: to give from abundance, demanding nothing, not even gratitude. Together, they would make the Fire Nation truly strong.

The applause that followed this speech was even more tepid than the applause that had greeted him, and he saw a number of confused looks and people turning to someone next to them with furrowed brows and a question on their lips. Iroh, however, was beaming, and raised a glass in Zuko’s direction when their eyes met. Zuko’s eyes searched the crowd for the supportive faces of his other friends, caught Aang’s broad smile and Toph’s thumbs-up… and then alit on another familiar face: Mai’s. He thought he even saw her twitch the tiniest of smiles. Zuko’s heart seemed to leap into his throat as if it had been squeezed out of his chest.

He descended the stairs from the dais, flanked by Suki and Ty Lee, to receive the well wishes of his nobles. He was vividly aware that the green uniforms and distinctive face-paint of the Kyoshi Warriors marked his most trusted guards as undeniably foreign; Ty Lee may have been born in the Fire Nation, but few would recognize her, and her gray eyes and dark brown hair could have been from anywhere… unlike Mai’s gleaming black hair and golden eyes, which attested to her origins just as surely as fire shooting from her palms would have.

Zuko exchanged polite, distracted greetings with a few courtiers that he thought he vaguely knew before he reached the Avatar and allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

“Another brilliant speech, Sifu Hotlord,” said Aang with a proper Fire Nation bow. Zuko returned the bow, not quite as deeply—only as low as was permitted from royalty to a master bender; the nobles would be scandalized otherwise—and said pleasantly, “Please don’t force me to kill the Avatar in front of all these people.” Aang responded to his threat with a bubbly delighted laugh.

Katara was less amused, though she also bowed in accordance with etiquette. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate to joke about that, considering…”

“Oh, lighten up, Sugar Queen,” said Toph. She also bowed, very correctly: her upbringing in the very highest society of the Earth Kingdom sometimes showed through, as much as she tried to cover it up under a crust of crudeness and caked dirt. “If Aang laughs, it’s funny.”

“Please tell me you don’t endorse that as a general principle,” Sokka interjected. “Aang laughs at jokes that are _definitely_ not funny.”

“True,” Aang acknowledged. “That was really interesting, that stuff about the true meaning of strength,” he said to Zuko.

“That can be blamed entirely on Uncle—specifically, the birthday present he sent last year. He’s fallen in love with the philosophers of the Earth Kingdom as well as their literature, and apparently he’s intent on taking me with him.”

“My only experience with the philosophers of the Earth Kingdom was that professor who gave us a lecture about principles of good governance,” said Aang. “I think that might be the most bored I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Same,” Sokka agreed fervently. “I could feel my soul trying to escape my body.”

“Well, this philosopher is considerably less boring,” said Zuko. “His writing is even kind of… sexy?”

Toph gave a low whistle, and Zuko looked around anxiously to see if anyone was staring at them (well, of course they were, he was the Fire Lord, talking to the Avatar). “Didn’t know you had a philosophy kink, Sparky.”

“What? I don’t— that’s not even a thing.”

Sokka snorted loudly. Katara more decorously covered her laugh with a cough. Zuko thought he heard a snicker from Suki behind him, but when he turned around to glare, her face was as composed as a Kyoshi Warrior’s should be.

“Um, Zuko,” said Aang cautiously. “Did you know Mai would be here?” (Zuko didn’t think too hard about what had inspired that change of conversational topic.)

“Yes, of course. I did invite her, after all—and her mother and brother.” He tried to sound genuinely nonchalant rather than irritable.

“Oh. Uh. Did you know that she had broken up with Kei Lo?”

For a moment Zuko’s mind went completely blank, except for the sensation of his stomach dropping through the floor.

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Aang’s voice came faintly through the roaring in Zuko’s ears. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Which made it really awkward when I asked her how he was doing…”

“Wow. You really keep stepping in it with Mai, don’t you?” Sokka remarked.

“It’s not my fault no one tells me anything! Ty Lee, did you know?”

“You’re not supposed to talk to the bodyguards!” she hissed.

“It’s fine, Ty Lee. You’re allowed to be a human being,” Zuko said, turning sideways so he could look at both of them. His voice was a little unsteady as he worked on getting a grip on himself.

“Oh. Well. Yeah, I did know,” she said shamefacedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Fire Lord Zuko! Mai told me not to.”

“Stop apologizing, and stop it with the titles!” Perhaps snapping at her was not the most effective way to convince her that he wasn’t angry. He took in a deep breath and let it out, then said calmly, “If Mai asked you not to tell me, then you were perfectly right not to.”

Ty Lee didn’t look entirely reassured.

“Oops. Was I not supposed to tell you?” Aang wondered anxiously.

“Did Mai tell _you_ not to tell him?” Katara asked.

“Um… no?”

“Then it’s probably fine.”

“I’m glad you did tell me,” Zuko said. He was feeling a bit lightheaded. “This way _I_ won’t step in it when I talk to her.”

“Are you going to tell her I told you?”

“Spirits underground, you all sound like a lot of gossiping schoolgirls,” said Toph.

Zuko ignored her. “No, I just won’t say anything about Kei Lo at all.”

“Yeah, that’s probably safest,” Aang agreed.

“All right, I need to keep placating the nobility,” said Zuko. “I’ll talk to you all later. Wish me luck.”

Katara grasped his hand briefly and squeezed it: a scandalous breach of propriety if anyone saw it, but she kept it low, hidden between her skirt and his robes, and anyway he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Good luck,” she said with concern and sympathy in her eyes. He nodded gratefully before he turned away to resume circulating through the room.

More stilted, lukewarm exchanges of pleasantries to which Zuko allotted half his attention, or less. His anxiety built and nausea started to rise as his path around the room wended in Mai’s direction. And then he was right in front of her, wilting under her indifferent gaze. He tasted bile in his throat and breathed deeply through his nose. Iroh was there already, kneeling to fuss over Tom-Tom, who was five years old and almost as quiet and solemn as his sister.

Mai’s mother bowed, and Mai followed suit. So did Tom-Tom, with perfect form, and Iroh chuckled delightedly and stood. Zuko inclined his head graciously, as was proper.

“We are honored by your invitation, Fire Lord Zuko, and more grateful than we can express. After my husband…”

Zuko raised a hand. “I could not possibly hold you responsible for your husband’s actions, Lady Michi. You have proved yourselves to be courageous and loyal subjects. I have shown you no special grace, but only the honor due to your station.”

“Nonetheless, Fire Lord, we are deeply grateful,” said Michi, bowing her head again.

“I hope you have been keeping well?”

“As well as can be expected,” said Mai. On the surface her voice was as expressionless as ever, but to Zuko it sounded scathing. _Does she know I know? Or is she still angry with me on general principle?_

“A little lonely, perhaps, without the company of men,” said Michi, casting a sidelong glance toward her daughter. Mai’s mouth barely twitched, but Zuko could tell that she was mortified.

“Except Tom-Tom, of course!” Iroh put in cheerfully. “He is growing into quite the capable young man already.”

“I protec’ Mama and sis’,” Tom-Tom agreed seriously.

“I’m sure you would do an excellent job,” said Zuko, “but your sister would have to be in dire straits indeed before she needed anyone to protect her.”

“What’s die— die-a-states?”

“It means a very, very bad situation,” Iroh explained.

Tom-Tom nodded. “If Mai get in die-a-states, I protec’ her.”

Mai actually cracked a small indulgent smile. “I know you would, Tom-Tom. I appreciate it.”

“We think he might grow up to be a firebender!” Lady Michi said proudly. “I’ve already seen sparks trailing from his fingers three times. He even singed my skirt when he was impatient!”

“How wonderful!” said Iroh, still addressing Tom-Tom. “Zuko was about your age when he first singed his mother’s skirt!”

“Uncle,” Zuko protested.

“Ukano and I both have firebenders in our family,” Michi continued. “It skipped a generation, and we thought it might have skipped two, but it still runs strong in our bloodlines!”

Mai shifted slightly and looked sideways at her mother, trying to catch her attention, but to no avail. Zuko had the deeply uncomfortable feeling that Michi was trying to sell her daughter to him like a broodmare.

“Firebender or not, I’m sure Tom-Tom will be a credit to our nation when he grows up,” Zuko said graciously.

He gave a slight bow of farewell, indicating a close to the conversation, and the three of them bowed to him more deeply. “Agni’s blessings and good fortune attend you this year and for the rest of your years, Fire Lord Zuko,” Michi said.

Iroh also bowed a farewell to Mai’s family and followed Zuko. “What a perfectly charming young man!” he exclaimed.

“If you start pestering me about giving you grandchildren—or great-nieces and nephews—I’m going to throw you out on your ear,” Zuko said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Iroh said innocently.

“Hmph.”

Zuko continued making the rounds of the banquet hall; he was only too happy to let Iroh do most of the making of anodyne conversation. Reaching Ursa and Noren was like reaching an oasis in the desert. “Are you all right?” his mother asked. “You look pale. Relax your jaw, Zuko, you’re going to give yourself a headache. And possibly wear down your teeth.”

Zuko hadn’t realized he was clenching his jaw that tightly. He allowed his teeth to part and moved his jaw around slightly to relieve the stiffness. “Thank you,” he said. “You know this isn’t my favorite way to spend an evening—mouthing polite nothings to courtiers who hate me.”

She didn’t dispute that characterization. She just said, “It will become easier. I have faith in you.”

He gave her a tired smile. She, of all people, knew how improper it was, but she put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. He closed his eyes, imagining that some of her patient strength was flowing into him through that touch.

“I saw you talking to Mai,” she said quietly. “His ex-girlfriend,” she reminded Noren, in an aside. He grimaced in sympathy.

“I’m all right,” said Zuko. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was lying or not.

“I’m always here if you need to talk,” she said. _You are now, but you weren’t for the eight years when I needed you the most,_ he didn’t say. He knew it wasn’t fair to blame her.

“So am I, for what that’s worth,” Noren chipped in. Zuko gave him a grateful half-smile.

At last, after another interminable half hour of meaningless courtesies, Zuko came back around to where his friends were standing. “Meet me back in the sitting room where we were earlier,” he told them quietly. Then he ascended the stairs to the dais again, thanked the assembled nobles once more for their support and good wishes, and left through the same back door through which he had entered, Suki and Ty Lee still behind him.

When he emerged into the (supposedly) private passageway, Mai was waiting for him. He didn’t know how she had gotten there, but he couldn’t say he was surprised; she had spent enough time in the palace, between her years as one of Azula’s closest confidantes and the year and a half she and Zuko had been together, and she had all the instincts of a spy.

“I need to speak with him in private,” Mai said to Suki and Ty Lee. It was not a request.

“No,” Suki said calmly. “We are oath- and honor-bound not to leave the Fire Lord unattended.”

Mai looked straight at Ty Lee. “You know I wouldn’t harm him.”

Ty Lee looked distraught. “Well… not physically, anyway…”

Mai’s jaw tightened.

Zuko turned to his guards. “You can stand at the end of the hall. You’ll be out of earshot, but still able to see us.”

Suki looked unhappy, but she bowed and they started backing away, their eyes never leaving him and Mai.

“Aang told you,” Mai said without preamble when she judged that Suki and Ty Lee were far enough.

“Yes. I’m sorry, Mai.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her voice was as cold and sharp as her daggers; she could have pinned him to the wall with that alone.

“I am, truly. I want you to be happy.”

“How gallant of you. But don’t expect me to come crawling back anytime soon.”

“I don’t!” He felt his temper flaring and had to rein himself in to avoid raising the temperature in the hallway. “I never have.”

“Good,” she said, enunciating with the precision of a razor.

“All right, then.”

Mai spun on her heel and would have flounced away, if she’d been capable of flouncing.

Zuko immediately regretted leaving things this way with her. “Mai, wait,” he said.

She stopped but didn’t turn around. “What.”

He swallowed his pride; it made his throat ache. “I miss having you around—your advice, your sense of humor,” he said hoarsely. “I wish we could be friends again.”

“So do I,” she said, but the flat, bitter way she said it informed him that she was leaning on the counterfactual implications of the word _wish_.

“Why can’t we?” he asked. He didn’t mean for it to come out so plaintive, but there it was.

She finally turned to face him. She had a talent for looks that could not rightly be described as glares but nevertheless made him want to shrivel up and blow away. “I’ll leave that to your imagination,” she said, then turned around again and walked away.

What was that supposed to mean? Was she still that angry with him for not telling her that he was going to see his father? Was she just angry at Kei Lo and taking it out on him? Or did she blame him, somehow, for the end of her relationship with Kei Lo? And how was _that_ fair?

Or maybe—and Zuko rebuked his own arrogance for even considering this possibility—maybe they couldn’t just be friends because Mai still wasn’t over him. (Some of what she had said to him in the crypts did seem to suggest that, he reasoned with himself: _“You broke my heart, Zuko. Twice! And the stupid thing is, I let you!”)_ Well, he wasn’t over her, either… strange new arrangement with Aang and Katara notwithstanding. Why couldn’t they just not be over each other together, then? Why did they _need_ to be over each other?

When Zuko returned to reality, Suki was touching his shoulder lightly and saying in a gentle voice, “Zuko? We should go.”

He shook his head slightly, shaking off his paralysis. “Yes, of course.”

They walked slowly enough that there would be no chance of catching up with Mai before their route took them in a different direction. When they arrived at Zuko’s preferred sitting room, the rest of his friends were already there.

“What took you so long, Sparky?” Toph asked. “We were starting to wonder if you got lost in your own palace…”

“Sorry… just ran into someone and it took a while to get rid of them. I need a fucking drink,” he declared before anyone could ask for elaboration, and charged toward the cupboard where he kept the plum brandy. “Anyone else?”

“We _have_ been drinking all evening,” Sokka pointed out. Of course: the guests would have had an opportunity to take glasses of plum or rice wine, which the servants would have been refilling liberally over the course of the reception. “But I could keep going…”

“Then don’t expect sympathy when you’re complaining about your hangover tomorrow morning,” Suki warned.

“Or any other problems that might arise due to excessive intoxication,” Toph said. “Or should I say _fail_ to arise?”

Katara groaned. “Toph, please, I didn’t need that mental image…”

“Your mental images are not my problem,” Toph said airily.

“And you’re not the one who actually _saw_ your brother lounging in a tent with no trousers and a flower between his teeth, speaking of mental images I could do without,” said Zuko, already pouring himself a full glass of brandy. He swallowed half of it in one go. It burned on the way down, but the way an antiseptic burns on a cut—a temporary pain that feels almost pleasant because it comes with the expectation of relief.

“Ew, Zuko, stop,” Katara groaned.

“Hey, people who live in glass houses should maybe reconsider those stones they’re throwing…” said Toph in a lilting sing-song.

“Huh?” said Zuko.

“Okay, I guess that’s just an expression in the Earth Kingdom. Perhaps I should go with the more universally understood ‘look who’s talking.’”

“Wait, when did anyone see… oh.” It was a matter of _hearing_ rather than _seeing_. “That was _their_ fault, not mine,” he said, pointing at Aang and Katara, who were avoiding looking at him. “Or more specifically, Aang’s.”

Suki was wearing a puzzled frown, and Ty Lee was looking around at everyone as if hoping for an explanation to materialize. “I feel like I’m missing something,” said Suki. Toph snickered.

“I’ll explain later,” Sokka promised.

“What about me?” Ty Lee asked, pouting.

“I can explain to you too!”

“Okay, thanks!” she said brightly.

“Drink, Suki, Ty Lee?” Zuko offered. He was pouring himself another, anyway.

“I think we’re still on the clock,” Ty Lee said doubtfully.

“Shift change is in what, an hour?”

“A small one, sure,” Suki sighed. “It’s been an interesting evening.”

“Yeah, okay, me too,” said Ty Lee.

They all sat down with their brandy. Ty Lee sniffed hers suspiciously and wrinkled her nose. She took a hesitant sip, coughed, and said, “Oh, that’s dreadful. I don’t know how you drink it, Zuko.”

“Eh, you get used to it. We endure what we must.”

Aang and Katara were giving him funny looks. Well, he knew Katara didn’t like the strong stuff, and Aang didn’t drink at all, so they were probably just as mystified as Ty Lee.

“Here, I’ll take it if you don’t want it,” said Toph, holding out a hand for Ty Lee’s glass. Ty Lee handed it over and watched in horrified distaste as Toph threw it back and then grinned at her. “You need to learn how to do shots,” she said.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s a terrible influence,” said Sokka.

Toph cackled, then dramatically faked a yawn. “Oh my, look at the time,” she said, very obviously not looking at a nonexistent timepiece somewhere in the vicinity of the fireplace. “We should all be heading to bed, shouldn’t we?”

“It’s not _that_ la— oh.” Sokka’s mouth pulled to the side. “I approve on general principle, but since my sister is involved…”

“This had better be good,” said Suki, glaring at him.

“Oh, it is. Trust me.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” said Katara with folded arms and a stormy expression.

“Maybe we actually should go to bed,” Aang said reasonably. He shot a furtive look over at Zuko.

Zuko drained his second glass of brandy and said, “Good idea. Firebenders and late nights don’t mix. Good night, everyone.”

“Happy birthday, Zuko!” Ty Lee said, cheerfully oblivious. But not for long…

“Have a good night,” said Toph, and managed to make it sound dirty. It was a talent.

Aang and Katara followed him out. “Your room is in the same direction as mine,” he told them.

“Does that matter?” Katara asked dryly.

“It does for the palace staff,” he replied.

Aang had grown a lot in the past four years, but he still had to trot a little to keep up with Zuko’s long, brisk strides. “Are you all right?” he asked earnestly. “You’ve seemed… out of sorts since you got back from the reception.”

“Not really,” Zuko said frankly.

“What’s wrong?” Katara asked.

“Mai,” he said.

“Um… can I ask what happened?” Aang ventured.

“Well, first there was her mother trying to _advertise_ her to me by hinting that she was available, then going on about how Tom-Tom might be a firebender, and how that means bending ‘runs strong in our bloodlines.’ _Bloodlines!_ Merciful Agni, could she be any less subtle? Oh, and then Mai found me as I was leaving the hall, just to tell me that I ‘shouldn’t expect her to come crawling back.’ Which of course I didn’t, but she just needed to throw it in my face anyway.”

They had arrived at Aang and Katara’s guest room. Zuko shoved the door open, a little more aggressively than necessary. Aang gave him a questioning look. “I naturally wake up early, so it’s easiest for me to leave before anyone notices,” he explained.

“Okay, but… are you sure you want…” Aang trailed off uncertainly.

“It seems like we’re not the ones you want,” Katara said gently.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Zuko said harshly.

Aang looked as if he had been slapped. Katara pressed her lips together so tightly the edges went pale.

 _Fuck._ “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not that I don’t want you. But… it still hurts.” And spirits, did it hurt, as if Mai had shoved a knife up under his sternum into the center of his chest. He put a hand over the imaginary wound, below the center of his ribcage, as if that might slow the bleeding.

“Would you rather be with us than alone?” Katara asked.

He nodded.

“Then come in,” she said.

* * *

They undressed in silence. It took Zuko far longer than the others to strip down to his undergarments, encumbered as he was with all the ornaments of state. He was still wearing an undershirt, though, while Aang wore nothing but a pair of loose linen shorts.

He had grown into a young man, as old now as Zuko had been at the end of the war. Age and diligent training had squared and filled out his shoulders and put lean muscles on his chest, but he was still so young… somehow both younger and older than his sixteen years. Zuko would never have thought of him this way if Aang hadn’t kissed him first; the twelve-year-old who had asked so earnestly if Zuko thought they could have been friends still lived too close to the surface.

Now, too, Zuko let Aang approach him first. His kisses were as gentle and guileless as everything else about him, at least to appearances. Zuko knew there was a quiet ruthlessness underneath—the same ruthlessness that would have killed him if Aang had thought it necessary—and he wanted to draw it out, wanted it to overwhelm him and leave him at its mercy. Zuko kissed with single-minded intent, hoping some of that ruthlessness would answer him, but instead Aang whimpered helplessly and clutched at Zuko’s shoulder.

Zuko broke away and turned toward the bed; Katara was standing beside it, waiting. He lifted the covers and climbed in, and Aang followed him, while Katara did the same from the other side. He lay face-to-face with Katara while Aang fitted himself along Zuko’s back.

Zuko pushed the hair back from Katara’s face and kissed her hungrily. Yes, there was the ruthlessness he was looking for; there were teeth in her kiss, and a slight snarl in her throat. He pressed his body closer against hers. Behind him, Aang kissed the back of his neck and ran an inquisitive hand from his shoulder down his side, over the groove of his waist and the angle of his hip and along the side of his thigh. Gentle exploration, where Zuko wanted conquest and plunder. He sighed in frustration and Katara pulled away from the kiss.

“What do you want?” Katara asked him, looking intently into his eyes.

He wanted not to think anymore. He wanted to be _incapable_ of thinking. He wanted to bury himself between Katara’s legs while Aang knelt behind him and fucked all possible thought out of his head. He wanted Aang’s mouth on him, clumsy and eager and relentless, while Katara crouched over him and drowned him in her scent. But he knew neither of them were ready for that, and if he was honest, neither was he. It was still strange with both of them; it would be better to learn each of them, one at a time, before the three of them got too ambitious.

So instead he took Katara’s hand and guided it between his legs. His breathing grew harsh as she felt him through the thin linen of his trousers. Without prompting she reached under the waistband and took him in her sure, cool grip. He sighed and his hips chased her stroking hand; he felt Aang harden slightly against him and imagined where that might lead, someday.

But at the moment it didn’t feel like this was going anywhere. His body wasn’t responding the way he expected; it felt as if his nerve endings were dulled, and sensation was muffled, or reaching him only faintly from far away.

Katara noticed and stopped moving her hand. “I feel like you don’t really want this,” she said.

He gave another frustrated sigh, but it caught in his throat and came out ragged, almost a sob. The ache was back in his chest and he was struggling to breathe past it and oh fuck no stop Katara’s hand was still down his trousers and now he was _crying_ against her shoulder about _another woman_ oh Agni this was a nightmare and could he please wake up soon.

But no, he could never be as lucky as that. He didn’t wake up; just kept sobbing into Katara’s chest while she withdrew her hand and instead wrapped it over his shoulder. Aang moved his hips away from Zuko’s (his was now a very awkward state to be in) and rubbed his back in soothing circles, almost like his mother used to when he was in tears as a child.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko choked out wetly, pulling away from Katara to avoid slobbering on her. “It still hurts,” he repeated. “It still hurts.”

“Shhh. I know,” she said.

“We’re here for you,” said Aang against the back of his neck. “Anything you need.”

Apparently what he needed was to cry himself out while his friends-turned-lovers held him and rubbed his back and ran gentle fingers through his hair. Eventually his tears ran out, leaving him exhausted but strangely light, like a sodden sponge that had been wrung out.

“I love you,” he mumbled, feeling lightheaded and drunk even though he knew he hadn’t consumed that much alcohol. “Both of you. I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“Because we love you too, you idiot,” said Katara, and smacked him lightly on the back of his head.

“Watch it,” said Aang, who had to quickly rear back to avoid her hand. “And don’t call my friend an idiot.”

Zuko gave them a damp, sniffly chuckle. “I promise it won’t always be like this. I can be fun in bed, I swear.”

“I’m counting on it,” Katara said archly.

“Sleep,” Aang urged him, and lightly kissed the back of his neck again. “Things will seem better in the morning. They always do.”

“Thank you, wise old sage Aang,” Zuko said for the second time that day.

“And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

_Two who are happy.—_ Truly, in spite of his youth, this is a great _improviser of life_ who amazes even the subtlest observer; for he never seems to make a mistake although he continually takes the greatest risk. One is reminded of those masters of musical improvisation whose hands the listener would also like to credit with divine _infallibility_ although here and there they make a mistake as every mortal does. But they are practiced and inventive and ready at any moment to incorporate into their thematic order the most accidental tone to which the flick of a finger or a mood has driven them, breathing a beautiful meaning and a soul into an accident.

Here is an altogether different person: at bottom, everything he desires and plans goes wrong. What he has occasionally set his heart upon has brought him several times to the edge of the abyss and within a hair of destruction; and if he escaped that, it was certainly not merely “with a black eye.” Do you suppose that he feels unhappy about that? He made up his mind long ago not to take his own desires and plans too seriously. “If I do not succeed at _this_ ,” he says to himself, “I may perhaps succeed at that; and on the whole I do not know whether I do not have more reason to be grateful to my failures than to any success. Was I made to be stubborn and to have horns like a bull? What constitutes the value and result of life for _me_ lies elsewhere; my pride as well as my misery lie elsewhere. I know more about life because I have so often been on the verge of losing it; and precisely for that reason I get more out of life than any of you.”

—Friedrich Nietzsche, _The Gay Science_ section 303 (translated by Walter Kaufmann)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to spfuzz on the Zutaraang Discord for suggesting that Zuko was born prematurely (oh, the Angst!) and also for inspiring me to think about the ways Sozin might have changed the religious/spiritual significance of various things in the Fire Nation, including the solstice.
> 
> Damn right the "Earth Kingdom philosopher" is Nietzsche, because my job is also my life. References are to _The Gay Science_ section 303 ("Two who are happy," quoted in-text because notes have character limits) and _Thus Spoke Zarathustra_ , esp. "On the Gift-Giving Virtue." Just saying... he probably isn't who you think he is.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after.

Zuko woke a little before dawn with a dry mouth and a headache. He supposed all that crying must have dehydrated him… and maybe he hadn’t eaten enough to absorb the brandy.

Getting up to get water was going to be a challenge. Katara was neatly curled on her side in front of him, while Aang was starfished on his back behind him, one forearm against Zuko’s back and one leg hooked over his. It was impossible to move without disturbing him, and sure enough, as soon as he’d raised his head to see where Aang was, the latter stirred and groaned softly.

“Zuko? You ’wake?” he mumbled sleepily, removing his hand from the back of Zuko’s head to rub it across his eyes.

Zuko turned over, nudging Aang’s leg off his in the process. “Yeah. It’s sunrise. Can I get past you so I can get some water?”

Aang gradually opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light before they stayed open. “I could just bend some out of the air into your mouth,” he suggested.

Zuko gave him an incredulous frown. “That’s weird. Why would you do that? There’s a tap just in the other room.”

“’Cause I don’t want you to get up yet.”

“I’m going to have to get up and leave before too long, anyway. I don’t need all the servants knowing where I spent the night. Palace gossip never stays in the palace.”

“Sun’s not up _yet_ ,” Aang insisted (accurately; since he had learned firebending, his sense of the sun’s position was almost as precise as Zuko’s). “You can stay a few minutes longer.”

In addition to having the most powerful bending in the world, Aang also had its most powerful panda-puppy eyes. Heartstrings-bending, Sokka might have called it.

Zuko sighed. “Fine.”

“Open your mouth,” Aang instructed him.

“This feels ridiculous,” Zuko muttered, then did as he was told.

Aang gathered droplets of water from the air around them between his hands, quickly accumulating a good-sized globule. When he judged it to be about a sip’s worth, he directed it into Zuko’s mouth.

It was tepid, as he might have expected from room-temperature air, and had a bit of an odd flavor that reminded him of the smell of storms, but it was still water.

“More?” Aang asked.

“Yes, please.”

Aang bent him three more mouthfuls before his mouth stopped feeling fuzzy and his headache started to recede.

“Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good,” said Aang, then slid a hand behind his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

It was slow and lazy, not aimed at any further purpose. Zuko allowed himself to forget for a few minutes that he needed to leave before long to keep their dalliance from becoming a source of scandal—perhaps even enough to dethrone him. Katara was still sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed, but it felt like they were alone in the world.

Aang hooked his leg over Zuko’s again, this time pulling him closer so their bodies were flush. He felt something stir slightly against his thigh—Aang was a teenager, after all, and still quicker to arousal than he was, though he felt himself stir in response soon after. It wasn’t urgent, though, and they didn’t really have time to deal with it now, together; they could take care of themselves later if it didn’t subside on its own. Zuko wanted their first time finishing together to be less rushed, less hungover (on his part), less overshadowed with the pain and awkwardness of last night.

Zuko pulled his lips away from Aang’s to catch his breath and they let their foreheads rest together, breathing each other’s air. He couldn’t see it, of course, but knowing that the blue arrow on Aang’s forehead—the mark of the last airbender in the world, the mark of the Avatar—was pressed against his skin felt strange, surreal. Aang had been his enemy, his prey, the greatest threat to the Fire Nation, Zuko’s one desperate chance for redemption. (Well, he still turned out to be that last, if not at all the way Zuko had once thought.) And now…

“Caught you, Avatar,” Zuko whispered into the quiet between them.

“Hmm. And what are you going to do with me?” Aang murmured back with suggestive playfulness, rubbing his nose against Zuko’s.

“…ask you to get your leg off me so I can get out of the bed.”

Aang made a noise that was somewhere between disappointed groan and frustrated growl, but he too could sense the sun cresting the horizon, so he rolled off Zuko and very nearly rolled off the edge of the bed, too, but somehow managed to land on his feet (perhaps it was cats, not sky bisons, who were the original airbenders).

Zuko climbed out after him and started to head toward the chair where he had abandoned most of his clothing, but Aang caught his left wrist—the one around which he had tied the woven bracelet.

“Aang…”

“Shh.” Aang turned Zuko’s hand palm-upward and kissed the line where palm met wrist. Zuko’s breath caught; it was a strangely intimate gesture on surprisingly sensitive skin. Aang grinned to see the effect, then licked a stripe up the most visible vein running up toward Zuko’s forearm. Oh no, this was not a good time for the intensified expression of interest from his trousers; he would probably have to take a shower to deal with that.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since yesterday afternoon,” Aang said smugly.

“Yeah, I got that sense…”

“All right, that’s all. You’re free to go.”

“Thank you, O gracious Avatar,” Zuko said sardonically, and went to put his robes back on. Fortunately, they were loose and thick enough to conceal his state of discomfiture.

“Tell Katara I’m sorry about last night,” he said quietly as Aang followed him to the door.

“We’ll be here for another two days—you can always make it up to us…”

Zuko twitched a smile, but said, “I don’t think I want to do anything too… adventurous while you’re both here. I’d rather get to know you individually first, so to speak.”

“Of course, that makes sense.” Zuko thought Aang sounded simultaneously disappointed and relieved. “But… you could still spend the night with us, if you want. And maybe make out a little?” he added hopefully. Oh, those panda-puppy eyes were lethal.

Zuko exhaled a laugh through his nose. “Sure, we could do that.”

Aang smiled at him like he was personally responsible for making the sun rise in the morning. Heartstrings-bending, indeed.

When Zuko opened the door, he found one of the Kyoshi Warriors who had been on nighttime guard detail standing attentively outside in the hallway. The other must be stationed outside his bedroom, for the sake of appearances. Oh shit… he hadn’t really thought this all the way through.

“I trust Suki has explained the situation?” he asked, affecting a businesslike tone, as if he had everything completely under control.

The guard—Shizuka, a tall, laconic young woman who rather reminded him of Jet’s archer friend, Longshot—just nodded.

“And you understand that _none_ of this is to be disclosed beyond the Kyoshi Warriors?”

The look she gave him, which asked wordlessly _Are you stupid or do you think I am?_ , would have impressed Mai. She nodded again.

“Good. Thank you.”

He had a similar conversation with Katsumi, the guard standing in the hall outside his bedroom door, except that she actually responded verbally: “Yes, she did” and “Of course, Fire Lord Zuko.” Was she smirking? Maybe it was just his self-conscious imagination. But in any case, he deserved it.

After he had showered (and taken care of certain other problems), Zuko emerged from his bedroom to find Suki standing outside his door with another of her warriors, Kohaku, to escort him to his first meeting of the day (with representatives of the architects’ and masons’ guilds about the possibility of sending a mission to the South Pole).

“Well? Was it as good as Sokka promised?” he asked Suki with the irritability born of profound embarrassment.

Suki grinned. “Oh, much, much better.”


End file.
